Stakeout
by jenny starseed
Summary: "You said things in your sleep," said Morse. "You, uh…you seemed to find me very attractive."


Thursday stretched his arms as he let out a low yawn. He rolled his neck, feeling the kinks in his neck loosen. He was much too old to be sleeping in cars at his age. He should have had Jakes here with Morse, watching over Mr. Wilken's house. But well, it seemed more appropriate that Thursday sees this through.

"Sorry I fell asleep there," said Thursday. "It was a mite unprofessional but I am sure the Laurie at the nick mistakenly gave me decaf this morning."

Morse studiously stared out the window of their small car. He sat still and didn't move or respond. Feeling that something was wrong (no one could find a locked door front that interesting), Thursday tapped him on his shoulder.

"Morse?"

Morse looked down for a moment before returning to his previous still position, not moving an inch to acknowledge Thursday.

"Endeavour?"

That usually got the lad's attention but nothing. The lad must be in one of his moods. Given enough time, Morse would tell him. Thursday dug into his pocket to find a smushed ham and cheese sandwich. At the sound of the wax paper unwrapping, Morse tilted his head but continued to say nothing. Huh. Maybe the he was angry. He couldn't see why. Maybe he snored too loudly.

Thursday ate quietly. The salty softness of the sandwich revived Thursday a bit, chasing away the last of the fatigue. He reached over by Morse's leg to retrieve the flask of hot tea and noticed how Morse flinched at the slightest contact. Now it was clear that Morse had a problem and the problem was with Thursday.

"Did you want any tea?"

He shook his head, still looking out the window.

After another half hour of this strange silence, Thursday sighed. "Morse, if I did something to upset you…"

Morse sharply turned his head. "It's nothing you could control."

Thursday frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Forget it," said Morse. He settled down on seat, now looking at his fingers on his lap instead of the window. "It's nothing really."

"It's not nothing if you're angry at me."

"I'm not angry," said Morse.

"You're doing a very bad impression of it."

"I'm not."

Even in the darkness, it was evident that Morse had that classic expression on. His lips in a grim line and his blue eyes quietly blazing, his sharp tongue ready to lash out at whoever offended him. The one that infuriates his colleagues and superiors. He's dug his heels in something and not for all the gold in the world would he budge.

"Fine. I don't know what I did to deserve your ire. Frankly, I thought we had the kind of relationship where we can work out problems. I must be wrong."

They said nothing for a long moment. Thursday didn't know how long. The sands of time dripped slowly when one's on a stake out. It could be twenty minutes or fifty hours for all he cared. That damn door wasn't' budging and Thursday couldn't help but be petulantly jealous for the peaceful sleep Mr. Wilkens must be having right now.

"You said things in your sleep," said Morse.

"Come again?"

"You said things in your sleep," repeated Morse.

Thursday kept silent. In his own time, Thursday said to himself. Slow and easy, in his own way, everything will be revealed.

"You, uh…you seemed to find me very attractive."

With that admission, it seemed that Morse's whole terse demeanour seemed to have deflated. No longer stiff and formal, he hunched over as though he could shrink himself away from Thursday's attention and stop the questions. Surely the lad knew better than that. Thursday waited while Morse turned away. He tended to look avert his eyes when he was gathering the courage to say something.

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," Morse admitted eventually.

"I'm a married man, Morse."

"I know that," snapped Morse.

"I know you do. I meant that to reassure you. You need not be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid, sir."

"Then what is it? I can't bloody read your mind."

Morse was silent again, now fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt.

What could he have possibly mumbled that has so upset Morse? Thursday couldn't recall what he dreamed. They were often hazy impressions. Of an unbuttoned shirt. Graceful fingers and stubbed pencils on newsprint. Blue eyes. Blue Tie. Hands running through ginger gold curls. Warm hands and kisses. There it was. A clue.

Thursday looked ahead on the dark street. The orange street lights shining spotlights on the road, glistening with the late evening rain that only recently stopped. Just him and his bagman, sitting in a car with nothing but their silent thoughts. Nowhere to go for the next three hours with the tea in the thermos slowly going cold. They may have many nights together like this.

"I won't lie, you're a very attractive man," said Thursday. He glanced at Morse, his eyes wide as saucers. "We can't help who we like but we can do our damnedest to act professionally. You're not the first and you won't be the last colleague I find attractive. But I love my wife, my job and my working relationship with you. I won't do anything foolish to jeopardize any of it. You have my word on that."

The heavy silence that followed was more than Thursday could bear. Morse had turned his head and resumed his former studious stance: stiff and still, staring out the window.

"I hope that is enough, Morse. I'm sorry if I upset you," said Thursday. He began to unscrewed the top of the thermos. God knows he wished he had something stronger than tea in the thermos. "It's bloody embarrassing to be honest."

Thursday caught the beginnings of a slight smile as the lad's shoulders begin to relax, settling down in his seat again.

"You chuckle now but one day, you'll be on a stakeout with Trewlove- "

Morse blushed. "I do not- "

"-and admit your undying love for her while asleep on the job. We'll see how you like it."

Morse smiled. The awkwardness and stubbornness that make him so unlikeable fall away to reveal his boyish good looks. Relaxed and easy now in his fitted blue fair isle jumper, his ginger gold hair falling softly over his mirthful blue eyes...He really was a handsome fellow. Thursday poured him a cup of tea from the thermos and handed it to Morse.

"Sir, I do not fancy Trewlove," said Morse, taking the offered cup.

"You don't fool me, Morse. Half the station fancies her. I've seen PC Dickens make a fool of himself on many occasions when Trewlove dares to even look his way."

Morse laughs. "Jakes doesn't let Dickens forget it. He would whisper Trewlove in his ear and Dickens would perk up and panic all at once. He would smooth his hair out but it would only make it unrulier."

Thursday chuckled as Morse drank his tea. The silence that followed felt nothing like the one before. It was like that moment when you got home and loosened your tie and slipped into your pajamas, instead of being all suited up and on your best behavior when every word and action weighed heavily.

"I'm sorry sir," said Morse. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Thursday nodded. "Think nothing of it."

"I'm not used to that kind of…regard. It caught me off guard. And it's oddly flattering."

"You're not offended?"

Morse shook his head. "I'm not."

"Good. Now that we've established that I'm not going to molest you- "

"I never said- "

"We can go over to my house for an early morning breakfast. Win promised us a beautiful bread pudding and hot tea once we've finished here. Win will be offended if you don't take home half the pudding with you after we've had our fill."

Morse smiled. "I dare not disappoint her."

"Good. Now hand me that pad of paper," said Thursday, pointing to a black car pulling up on the drive way. "I see Mr. Wilkens has a visitor. Bingo. We got him now."


End file.
